Lives Of Obscurity
by tresemellon
Summary: A series of one-shots written for the Mystery Challenge. (1) The sorting ceremony can be full of surprises some years, but none even compare to the shock of a predicted lioness falling to the snake pit. (2) Grief is one of the hardest things in the world to overcome, and the truth of the matter is some never get over it.
1. The Hat That Cannot Be Understood

**A/N Written for the Mystery Challenge. I really had fun writing this and so I really hope you get some enjoyment from reading it! I think it's a really cool idea.**

 **Prompt: Slytherin!AU about a non-Slytherin character, in which you will need to include the word 'arcane' somewhere.**

* * *

The Hat That Cannot Be Understood

The sorting hat had arcane procedures in regards to placing the incoming first year students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry into their houses. Usually with such precision and quick-thinking it was able to immediately detect whereabouts the twelve year old should go. However sometimes it proved quite a task and required much deliberation on the hat's behalf. Some of the students had conflictions in their personality traits, conflictions in their houses. It had been seen the year previous with a young boy, with whom the sorting hat fumbled around with the array of choices. Despite deciding on Gryffindor, Slytherin was a house that was being considered. A prime example of the conflictions within personality traits. This year proved to be the very same.

The centre of the Great Hall was flooded with young children. Red stood out against the sea of dark hair and it was evident to everybody in attendance just who this young girl was. Her brothers were lined up to her left, eagerly awaiting the sorting hat to inevitable call upon her to tell the audience that yet another Weasley was carrying on the tradition of being a Gryffindor. They couldn't think of a member of their family who hadn't been placed in that house.

Anxiety enveloped the young girl, and this was easily read. Nerve painted itself across her face, inviting everybody in the room into her fears. On one hand she didn't quite know why she was nervous. After all, she was a Weasley and Weasleys by nature just belonged in Gryffindor. But at the same time she wasn't an ordinary Weasley. Being the first female born into the family for generations could possibly come with its own side effects. Sure, Gryffindor had been the default house for the male population of the Weasley family, but perhaps it wouldn't take nicely to the opposite gender. Or perhaps she was just reading into it too much and should probably relax.

The sorting hat this year followed alphabetical order, which was unusual. Generally the list was randomised, but for some reason this year they wanted structure, order to the ceremony. This only made her anxiety worsen as, obviously, she would be called upon last. She didn't know how to relax herself; saying that, she never generally had to relax herself. Her whole life usually featured an incredibly calm aura surrounding her. As the group of first years grew smaller, her nerves grew larger.

"Ginevra Weasley."

Trembles raced through her body and she felt herself shake with every footstep she took towards the hat. She stepped up onto the platform and carefully sat down, refusing to make eye contact with the people in the room. The hat was placed on top of her head.

"Ah, another Weasley I see. Yet this one is different to the others I sense. The same bravery fills her as her family, yet there is something strange. Unusual cunningness, perhaps? A peculiar sly nature not pertaining to the rest of the Weasleys."

She tried to fight the sorting hat reaching into her mind and discovering anything about her that didn't fit the Gryffindor standard.

"Why are you trying to stop me from doing my job, Miss Weasley?"

In that moment she herself stopped. She remembered what her parents had said. They told her that no matter where she ended up that they would still love her, still be proud of her, still be their special little girl. But in her heart she knew that they had high expectations for her. She _needed_ to be a Gryffindor. She needed to make them proud.

"You need to make your parents proud?" the hat snarled, "I mean surely that's a little bit selfish? Is it for their sake, or for yours? I think it's definitely for your own sake. Make things easier for you."

The hat was right. She wanted to make them proud, but not for their own happiness. She wanted to make them proud for herself, to make her own life easier.

"No need to be so defeated, girl. You've got something feisty about you. I think I have it now."

She clenched her fists in anticipation.

"Slytherin!"

In that moment her heart sank and she couldn't quite believe what had happened. She was certain that if she hadn't ended up in Gryffindor then perhaps she would be a Hufflepuff. In that moment she was kicking herself. How hadn't she seen that before? How had she been so naive? She knew that she had traits that some may consider uncouth. She could be particularly boisterous at times, but never when not necessary.

But perhaps she could do great things in Slytherin?

She couldn't bring herself to look at her brothers. Or the Gryffindors. Or anything. She kept her head down and made her way towards the obnoxious cheering and hollering, and away from the stunned quietness. She glanced up briefly and spotted a vacant place for her to sit. She took her seat and directed her attention to what remained of the ceremony, making sure not to gaze over at her brothers who at this moment were no doubt cursing everybody in their heads. She turned so her back was to the majority of those residing in her new house. The last thing she wanted to see were the expressions of hatred glaring at her.

She felt movement behind her and moved her body in such a way that she managed to look at the person discreetly. And out of the corner of her eye she caught a tinge of platinum hair. She breathed in the musk.


	2. Cattermole Agony

**A/N Written for the Mystery Competition. I've never written a poem before so I really hope this is okay.**

 **Prompt: Reginald Cattermole**

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I lay here,  
A cocoon of tremendous despair  
And I remind myself of  
The common moth;  
Delicate.

My wings are broken  
From too many pointless escapades.  
My pride has depleted  
From all the time lost;  
Wasted.

And now I am nothing,  
And I have to wallow in my  
Incredible nothingness.  
Longing for something else;  
Despair

The clock counts in seconds,  
tick-tock, tick-tock.  
But to me it feels like  
The longest eternity;  
Tick-tock.

I spend my days now  
Lounging in my bed.  
Year-old coffee currently  
Is staining my teeth;  
Rotting.

Laundry spreads itself  
Across the wooden flooring  
Of the apartment.  
I remember when you chose it;  
Good idea.

The seconds disappear,  
Counting down how long is left  
Before I am able to see my  
Darling wife;  
Darling Mary.

Your clothes are still hung up  
Next to my best suit.  
Your wedding dress is still hung up  
In my mind;  
Embedded.

Your smile is ingrained  
Forever within my mind.  
Torturing my soul with  
Your pearly whites;  
Spotless.

The trees outside  
Constantly change.  
Orange to green, barren to blooming.  
You love nature, don't you? Wait, correction;  
Loved.

The poppies are growing  
In your flower bed next to my lilies.  
The red is empowering yet at the same time  
It fills me with the loneliest despair;  
Triggering.

My heart aches every day.  
Part of me really does believe  
One day you will return to me.  
I know it will never happen;  
Foolish.

However it is very possible  
For me to come and visit you.  
Perhaps we can go on holiday  
Some place nice like you always wanted;  
Or not.

I am withered and grey now  
And I am rotting with despair.  
I will be seeing you any day now,  
I am so sure of it;  
Tick-tock.

I lay here,  
A cocoon of tremendous despair  
And I remind myself of  
The common moth;  
Delicate.


End file.
